


One Problem Too Many

by Ki_writes



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander cannot do math, An angel as always, Dysfunctional but they work, Eliza is a cinnamon roll, F/M, Family Life with A. Ham, Poor Philip, Random Drabbles, What a dysfunctional family, at all, it's dreadful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 08:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6797266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ki_writes/pseuds/Ki_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Philip Hamilton, I will be damned if I let a silly little math problem get the best of me,” </p>
<p>In other words, Alexander tries to help Philip with his math homework. It doesn't work out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Problem Too Many

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this a few months ago, but then stopped, so I finished it tonight. Just a random family fic, showing how stubborn Alexander is in everything he does. 
> 
> Also, I know this wasn't exactly what Hamilton did under President Washington but it just sorta works out this way. Well say this is before he got a promotion to Secretary of the Treasury. 
> 
> Also, those math things in the middle. Yeah, I made those up. They were partially correct, but I hate math, so. Enjoy this!

Alexander's eyes hurt, to say the least. This could be credited to the fact that the man never stopped working. Work, work, work, that's all he did. And in a job that involved speech writing for one of the most - scratch that, _the most_ \- influential man in the country, Alexander Hamilton never felt the desire to stop; to limit the possibilities that came with his high level of intellectual skill. If the president sounded good, then so did Alexander. 

Tonight, he was working on a particularly important piece of writing that was to address the nation as a whole, covering a recent school shooting in South Carolina. The speech was due by the following week, and Hamilton was finally rounding out the kinks in the closing paragraph. Unfortunately for him, he had deleted three earlier paragraphs all together, and still needed to go back and rewrite them. The words weren't coming to him for some reason. 

Obviously the speech wasn't immediately due, but Hamilton still felt the need to finish it early, to be able to run it by Washington and see if he desired any changes. 

“Your speeches are top notch, Hamilton,” Washington had said to him one night as Alexander left the office with a briefcase full of loose papers in one hand and his laptop in his other hand. 

“But sir, it's important for you to have meaning behind what you are saying,” He pointed out, hailing for his drive home. “I'm not the one speaking on that pedestal.” 

“I have faith in you, son,” 

_Son_. The word gave Hamilton a warm feeling inside. Whether it be from the fondness he felt towards Washington, or the blatant fact that someone was saying it to him in the first place, Alex would never know. Regardless, he felt more at ease when Washington said it. 

Now, here he was, typing away furiously on his laptop, shaking his head when words didn’t make sense. It was absolutely silent in the room. The gears of his brain were the only thing making imaginary noises. 

That is, until a loud crash from behind his chair startled him.

“Shit…” 

“Excuse me?” Even in his half-dazed state of mind, Alexander immediately recognized the voice. “Watch your mouth, Philip,” 

“Sorry, Pa,” Philip quietly shut the door to his father’s study room and took a cautious seat down on the small sofa next to his desk. Finally, Alexander looked up to observe his son, bags under his eyes, and a notebook in his hand.

“What are you doing up?” he checked the digital clock on his desk, his eyes straining to read the numbers. “It’s damn near one in the morning,”

“Well…” Philip scratched a hand through his hair, shifting the notebook in his lap. “You see, I was doing homework-”

“Hopefully not distracted by your phone, again,”

Philip continued, as though his father had said nothing. “I’m in AP Calculus BC right now, as you know, and this math shit is totally ridiculous-” 

“What did I just say, Philip?”

He winced. “Sorry, I lose my filter when I get tired.” Alexander scoffed. At least that’s a trait he knew his son had inherited from him. “Anyway, I was about to give up, but I can’t give that assh- that man in my class, George Eacker, the satisfaction of knowing that I didn’t get this stuff. I thought about asking Theodosia, but I figured she was already asleep, and-” 

“Son.” The elder Hamilton interrupted his rambling. “Are you asking for my help on a math problem?” 

“Multiple math problems, actually,” Philip held out his notebook, but quickly drew his arm back. “If you want to, or course. If not I can copy from someone in the morning before class starts, or-”

“No son of mine will stoop so low as to cheat,” Philip had to try extremely hard to suppress a chuckle. Not like he hadn’t cheated before, but his father didn’t need to know it. “Let me see it,” 

Philip handed over the notebook, revealing scribbles all over the place, with half finished problems up and down the page. “We’re into functions right now, and this right here is-” 

“Hah! Philip, please, I did these things all the time in college.” 

“Yeah, but Pa, college for you was like two hundred years ago.” He smirked. Alexander looked at him sharply as Philip let out a laugh, unable to help himself. 

“Philip Hamilton, I will be damned if I let a silly little math problem get the best of me,” 

Two hours later… 

“See this right here? If you turn sine squared x into one minus the cosine squared x and then you pull the secant squared x back into it, you’ll be able to-” 

“Pa, you can’t do that. The secant is in a different mode.” 

Alexander made a double take, checking again to see if Philip had caught him. He snapped his fingers and threw the pen down on the desk. “Fuck.”

“Give up, Pa, I’ll just copy the stuff tomorrow and then go in for tutoring-”

“Philip!” 

Three more hours later…

“Alexander!” his wife’s frantic voice could be heard from upstairs, her feet bumped around. “Alexander!” 

The door opened to the study with a loud bang. “Alexander, Philip isn’t in his room and I can’t find him, I’m not sure where he could have-” Eliza switched on the overhead light, definitely not prepared for the sight that graced her eyes. Sprawled out on her husband’s couch was her son, fast asleep, snoring very lightly. At the desk was her husband, mumbling quietly to himself. Papers were shrewn about the floor, and Eliza took a moment to take it all in. 

“Alexander?” He gave no response, causing Eliza to move in and tap Philip gently on the shoulder to wake him. “Dear, it’s time for you to wake up, you need to leave for school soon.”

“Wha-” Philip groaned and rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes. 

“Why were you down here, Philip?” 

He gave no verbal response. Instead, he stood up right, snatching his notebook from his father’s grasps and making for the door with faint questions of coffee floating from his mouth. 

As soon as the book was torn away from him, Alexander began to protest harshly, his voice thick and heavy with lack of sleep. “Hey, Philip, give that back! I wasn’t finished with-” 

“Sweetheart,” Eliza began calmly, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. “Did you sleep last night?” 

“Last night?” Alexander questioned, glaring at the digital clock on his desk once again. “It’s…”

“Six in the morning, yes.” Eliza sighed quietly, gently reaching out to shut his laptop and then grab his wrists softly. “I think it’s time you get into bed, dear,” 

“I have so much work to… do…” Hamilton suddenly felt overcome by an intensely thick wave of exhaustion, and he leaned back slightly into Eliza’s warm figure. 

She hummed knowingly, allowing her Hamilton to lean against her as she led him up the stairs carefully. As soon as his body hit their soft mattress, Alexander began to snore lightly. Eliza made quick work of pulling his outer layer of clothing off and tucking him into bed. Just as she was beginning to feel satisfied in her handy work, a loud knock at their bedroom door caught her attention. 

“Philip, try not to wake-”

“Pa, you are _not_ capable of doing math problems. Don’t try. Ever again.” The annoyed teenager pulled his backpack up onto his shoulder and banged on the door once more for good measure, just to be sure his father was up and heard what he had said. 

Alexander groaned in annoyance and rolled over, pulling a pillow over his head. He quickly fell back asleep. 

Eliza was standing there still, in the middle of her bedroom, having no idea what really happened the night before. Yet, she couldn’t help but smile. Those two were definitely her boys. 

**Author's Note:**

> In the end, Philip copies the homework and never asks his father for help on math ever again. This is based on my own math struggles late at night. Good times. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
